Mechwarrior Diplomacy
by JimdeGriz
Summary: Unlikely bedfellows, a Davion Guardsman and a Marik spy find themselves thrown together by circumstances as they are caught up in the brutal politics of the Periphery.
1. Chapter 1

Mechwarrior Diplomacy

28th June 3050

Planet: Ridderkerk

"Make a gap." Lieutenant Kyle Howard pushed two of his fellow officers aside as he placed the round of drinks down on the table and sat down in the space he had just created on the bench. At 29 years of age, the tall ginger haired mechwarrior held more experience than his junior rank suggested and he laughed heartily as the rest of the table loudly bemoaned his entrance. Seated outside the Flying Dutchman Inn on the outskirts of Ridderkerk's capital the party was in good spirits. Made up of the officers of the mercenary battalion 'Gibson's Commandos', they had spent the last six months training to fight the clan invaders and were now spoiling for a fight.

"You know, I've been thinking." Kyle said as he handed round the drinks. He was drowned out by cried of 'Dangerous, dangerous!' as the table erupted into laughter. He waited for it to die down out and continued. "We've all shared the story of how we all meet, but there is one story I don't know and can't figure out." He turned to face the shortest of the assembled officers, an unassuming man with short brown hair by the name of Max Rivers. "How in the Inner Sphere did the Marik spy end up working for the Davion Guardsman?"

"Is it any less likely that said Guardsman hiring the Free Skye Terrorist?" Max replied with a grin.

"Akk, I know we've had this conversation before Jimmy." Kyle replied in an over the top mock gallic accent. "But the correct term would be Freedom Fighter, no." The table erupted in laughter again, it would be expected that the quiet, reserved Max wouldn't get on with the loud boisterous Kyle, yet the two were fast friends and the back and forth sniping regarding each other's shady pasts was considered great entertainment by the other officers. "Seriously though, there's got to be a story there?"

"There is, but I don't tell it well. Sam, you want to tell it."

Major Gibson, the guardsman in question, put his beer down. "If I must." He responded with mock resignation. "It all started in 3041, on a planet in Circinus Federation called Baltazar III."

Chapter One

12th March 3041

Planet: Baltazar III

A small crowd of onlookers surrounded two men, both stripped to the waist as they wait for their seconds to finish inspecting their weapons. Duelling cultures are not uncommon in cultures dominated by a 'nobility' and it wasn't surprising that the pirates turned semi-legitimate rulers of Baltazar III had adopted the concept as part of their attempt to 'fit in' with the rest of the Inner Sphere. Captain Samuel Gibson stood stoically as he sized up his opponent. The local's predisposition for duelling, and their habit of using it as leverage in trade disputes, was one of the reasons why Gibson had been attached to the Fed Com trade mission. His home planet, Logandale, had a similar cultural leaning towards resolving disputes with cold steel.

Every planet is different though, he reflected, the game was the same but the rules changed. On Logandale this duel would never have been allowed, to challenge a guest would be unthinkable and in any case the hosting family's champion would be expected to defend their guest's honour. Here this was all seen as part of a legitimate negotiating tactic. Oddly their main hold up seemed to be his chosen weapon. Baltazar's young nobles favoured a light sabre design, Gibson preferred a medieval style arming sword, the heavier blade better suited his lanky frame and its nature sent a message, it wasn't a duelling sword wielded by an honour obsessed nobleman, it was a killing sword wielded by a trained killer.

Still no one had been paying attention to that message and he'd been dodging clumsy attempt to trap him into a duel for the past four days. In the end they had given up and seized upon a poorly chosen comment regarding the local wine as an excuse to challenge one of the Ambassador's young aids. Faced with the choice of looking weak, letting the kid be killed or fighting the duel himself, Gibson had accepted the challenge, even if he felt it was a ludicrous idea.

The seconds had finished their debate and returned the duellists' blades. Gibson barely knew the Lyran diplomat acting as his second, he had only joined the party a fortnight ago and they had quickly made known their distain of the Davion Guardsman. Gibson took his blade silently and banished his reservations, focusing on the young man opposite him. Shorter at about 5' 9'' he moved well as he went through several warm up exercises, Gibson didn't know his name, frankly it hadn't seemed important. The two duellists met in the middle and crossed the tips of their blades. It was the challenger's prerogative to start the duel.

"En garde!" Gibson's opponent shouted as he attacked with a serious of short sharp slashing attacks. Gibson gave ground, keeping his blade low as his footwork kept him out of reach of his enemy's blade. Emboldened, his opponent pressed forward only for Gibson to suddenly snap his blade up, slamming aside the lighter sabre and taking the offence with a lightning thrust. It was now the younger man's turn to give ground, blood seeping from a shallow cut on the left arm. Balance restored the two men started to circle each other.

Gibson broke the dead lock first, stepping in, he alternated slashes and thrusts, high and low to spread his opponents defence before delivering a savage blow to his opponent's brow. With blood pouring down his forehead, the young duellist dropped to his knees as he tried to stem the bleeding with his off hand. His second and his friends rushed to his aim. Deeming the duel over, Gibson bowed then turned to leave, satisfied that he'd probably avoided killing his opponent.

"The duel is not over; he can still fight."

Gibson turned sharply, the voice hadn't come from the duellists second, rather an old man from the crowd wearing a faded Black Warriors uniform.

"He can't see through all that blood." Gibson's astonishment was plain in his voice. "He cannot possibly continue."

"All duels are to the death. George get to your feet."

The younger man climbed to his feet and picked up his sabre. He tried to look brave but as his eyes meet Gibson's, the fear behind the façade was plainly visible. Internally Gibson seethed, it was lose-lose, don't kill him and look like a coward or kill him and look like a murderer.

"This is bloody murder." He protested, but was meet by a wall of silence as his opponent unsteadily advanced. Initially Gibson gave ground, unwilling to fight such an unequal duel, but at length, with nowhere left to retreat to, his opponent's incessant attacks forced a reply. Two quick blows later, his opponent lay dead at his feet. Without a word the crowd began to disperse, the fallen duellist's friends picked up his body and carried it away, leaving Gibson alone. He stared at the blood on his hands for a moment and then started after the old man, only to find his way blocked by a short brown haired man in a Free Worlds League Military uniform.

"Trust me Captain Gibson, you want to let this one go."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"It's just to see someone sacrificed so blatantly for points scoring." Gibson fumed as he practically inhaled his breakfast. The inn's owner placed two pints of beer on the table and withdrew quickly. Technically his inn wasn't open for business, but Baltazar was only one step removed from a pirate stronghold and he knew better than to argue when two blood stained men appeared on his doorstep and demanded food and drink. "That kid stood no chance and he knew it, there was no honour in killing him, no purpose, it's just bloody murder to force him to keep fighting."

"I'd have thought a soldier would be at peace with the idea?" His companion replied amicably, eating his own breakfast at a more restrained rate. "When we signed up we knew we might be asked to give our lives for the cause."

"Well yes, but you're supposed to dress it up a bit, tell them they are risking their life for something important, fighting to protect something worth dying for. Not just say, your death will work to my political advantage so go over there and die." Gibson replied, contempt for the Baltazarian's actions clear in his voice.

The other man leaned back and folded his arms thoughtfully. "But is there really a difference?"

"Yes…no…I don't know." Gibson threw his arms up in frustration. "It shouldn't matter but it does." He complained as he sank back into his chair.

"I know what you mean." His companion replied. "Anyway, I never introduce myself, I'm Captain Max Rivers of the 11th Atrean Dragoons, currently the military attaché to the House Marik trade mission."

"Ahh the mission spy, explains how you know who I am." Gibson replied bad temperedly. "Captain Samuel Gibson, 4th Davion Guards attached to the Fed Com trade mission, but you know that already."

"True, but it is bad manners to come out and say it." Max replied coolly.

Gibson stopped and thought for a moment. "Sorry I'm not having a good morning, you just did me a good turn and I'm being a total arse. Mind if we start from scratch." He held out his hand. "Captain, Samuel Gibson, 4th Davion Guards, not always a total bastard. Thank you for the assistance. Can I buy you a drink?"

Max smiled and took his hand. "Captain Max Rivers, 11th Atrean Dragoons, totally not a spy." Both men laughed. "And I will take you up on that drink."

The barman put another pair of drinks on the table, Gibson dropped some bills into his hand as payment. "So how in the Inner Sphere did you end up this far west of Earth?" Max asked.

"I'm one of the 4th's 'Crisis Men', good in a fight but a touch of a liability in court." Gibson replied. "My Colonel prefers to put me on detached duty in peace time. Cuts down on the number of duelling injuries to the rest of the regiment. Yourself?"

"I volunteered, my wife's pregnant, I thought it best to put a few light years between us until she's calmed down." They both laughed. "I joke, someone had to go and I pulled the short straw. Originally we were both going but obviously the pregnancy put pay to that."

"Comes with the job doesn't it. I missed my daughter's birth. Kind of a kick in the teeth but I was on a deep raid of the CC when my wife found out she was pregnant, couldn't just nip back for the birth. Didn't actually find out till after the fact." Gibson replied sympathetically. "How's your wife taking it?"

"Melissa's taking it quite well. She's a mechwarrior herself and we're assigned to different units so we're kind of used to the separation. Still I'd like to have been there." Max sighed. "I have an arrangement with the local ComStar rep. I've already paid to have the message transmitted so I'll know as soon as she gives birth."

"Well that's something then." Gibson raised his glass. "To families, may they continue to put up with us and not throw us out into the street."

Max laughed and raised his glass. "I'll toast to that." He checked his watch. "We'd better get to work, someone's going to notice our absence if we stay much longer."

"True, well good to meet you Max, hope everything goes well with your kid." Gibson got up to leave, but something made him stop, his tone changing back to serious. "Incidentally, why did you stop me? I could have got the entire trade mission chucked off planet right then and there. Would have left all the Germanium for your guys to snap up."

"True." Max replied. "But then that would have left your people feeling aggrieved and they might well decide to use force to settle the issue, goodness knows Mariks and Lyrans don't need an excuse to come to blows. In the long run, a fair deal is better for everyone involved."

Gibson nodded. "Well put. Safe journey Max."

"You too Sam, you know they will be coming for you right."

"Oh yes, I'm counting on it."


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Max had expected to see some sort of response to the dead Baltazarian, they didn't seem like the kind of people who let such things go easily. But, kidnaping the Fed Com Ambassador's teenage son, that was a little much. In fact, it didn't make any sense, it was too serious to be a negotiating tactic, it was the sort of thing the Fed Com responded to with RCTs, not trade concessions. Maybe it was a splitter faction trying to embarrass the ruling faction, there were rumours that civil war was brewing. But if that was the case they were playing a very dangerous game for little gain that Max could see. It was particularly strange that after four days there was still no ransom demand. It was a week for surprises though, he also hadn't expected to find Samuel Gibson waiting for him in the compounds meeting room.

"So why me? I am a Marik spy remember, why do you think you can trust me?" Max asked.

"I don't." Gibson replied. "But, I know where your loyalties lie."

"And you don't trust your own people because you think it was an inside job." Max finished the unspoken half of the sentence.

"Don't you?"

Max nodded, it was certainly his analysist's interpretation of events. The Fed Com compound was well guarded, for the attackers to have gotten in and out before the alarm was raised was highly suspicious. It suggested a well place inside man.

"And you feel I won't betray you because you don't think I think it would be in the Free World League's best interests."

"I wouldn't use so many words, but yes." Gibson replied slowly losing patience. "Look it pains me to say it but I can't do this alone and there is no one else I trust on this planet. Will you help me?"

Max looked thoughtful. "Of course a member of the FWLM can't be officially involved in what's highly likely involve breaking multiple laws in a neutral nation. However, if something were to happen to the Federated Commonwealth's Ambassador's son and it came out that the Free World's League had refused to help, that might adversely affect the relationship between our nations." He grinned. "So guess I'd better leave my ID card at home today. Do you have any leads?"

Gibson grinned back and spread a map of the city out on the table. "I got a bit of a break." He started rummaging through his pockets. "I was trying to track their getaway vehicle when two Black Warriors took a dislike to my questions. They are in hospital now, but before they went, one very kindly lent me his van…." Gibson held up some keys. "…and unlocked his mobile phone for me." He produced a mobile phone still marked with a blood stained thumb print. "It had some very interesting messages on it. Including a shopping list and a drop off point for tonight."

"McIntyre men or Cirion's?" Max asked, he doubted it would be President McIntyre's faction, but it payed to double check.

"No idea." Gibson admitted, until that moment it hadn't occurred to him there was any need to make a distinction.

"You know they are going to notice their deliveryman is missing and abandon the drop." Max looked sceptical at the presumed plan.

"If they were smart they would." Gibson agreed. "But they are Black Warriors, basically pirates, and I just put two of their men in hospital and jacked one of their vehicles. They can't let that stand, they have to respond or they lose face in the local community. They know I'm trying to track them, my obvious next move is to complete the drop off and then track them back to their hide out."

"So they lay an ambush for anyone foolish enough to drive their van up to the drop off point." Max reasoned. "Except you're not thinking of driving are you?"

"Not a chance, they are expecting a van, they won't be expecting two guys sneaking up behind them." Gibson replied with relish.

"Still poor odds, half dozen or more to one." Max replied.

"Still time to back out if you're scared."

"Not a chance. Meet me at the crossroads two blocks away at 5pm." Max pointed at the map. "I'll bring a few toys."

"Me to." Gibson replied offering his hand. "We've going to give the bastards hell."

Max took his hand. "That we are."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"This wasn't quite my idea of giving them hell." Gibson complained. The two officers were curled up in sleeping bags under the shelter of an abandoned factory's doorway. To any onlookers they looked like two vagrants trying to stay warm as the night drew in, only if they got really close would they notice the subtle glow of the hand held terminal concealed in Max's sleeping bag.

"You'll get your chance to shoot the place up later. In the meantime, watch." Max replied as he watched the handheld's screen intently. Overhead a small drone was feeding him a real time view of the area, he'd already identified four parties in the ambush around the drop point and what he suspected was the command post. It all looked suspiciously militaristic.

"There's only four of them in that room. We can take them, interrogate them and be done with it." Gibson continued complaining. His bag of toys had consisted of a Mars Laser Carbine and a satchel full of various grenades.

"And if they won't talk?" Max responded only half paying attention as he fiddled with the terminals controls.

"Make them." Gibson replied simply.

"You'd resort to torture?" Max was surprised enough to look up from the screen.

"Well no, just rough them up a little, scare them a bit. Nothing that extreme." Gibson grumbled.

"Might work." Max said. "But I have two better weapons in play. Boredom and a laser microphone. Put this ear piece on."

It took a while, but as their watch dragged on the enemy in the command post began to lose focus and started to chat amongst themselves. At first they stuck to small talk, but eventually it gave way to complaining about their current tasking and then slowly to complaining about all the tasks left to do tonight. With a practiced ear Max drew out usable intelligence from their conversations as Gibson worked with a map of the city to try and pin point potential locations that the hostage might be held at.

"Think I've got it." Gibson whispered. "There's only three places that she could be referring to as a 'steel mill'. Ones in use, but two are closed down. However, one of those is right next door to the diplomatic compounds, it's no good as a cover location. They must be using this one." He stabbed at the map with his finger.

"I agree, but look at the list of names they keep mentioning. The guard could be as many of twenty, we can't take that on alone. We'll have to bring in others." Max replied, concerned.

"Someone will blab and once they do we can forget about finding the kid. Besides your forgetting something, they've got fourteen men here, that only leaves six guarding the factory. If we go now, we've got good odds of getting in and out before this mob know what hit them."

"That's a fair gamble Sam, if your wrong we both die."

"That's how the game works. You coming?"

"I think I'd better." Max programmed the drone to return to base and closed up the terminal. "Hate to think what crazy ideas you'd come up with on your own."

Quickly packing up their equipment, Max and Gibson walked briskly back to Gibson's car and took a circular route to the suspected hide out. Leaving the car well short of their objective they approached the abandoned steel mill careful to stay in the shadows. Using his carbines optics, Gibson scanned the front of the building.

"One guy guarding the front door, can't see any others. Don't suppose you have another of those drones on hand?" Gibson asked.

"Only had the one and it'll need charging for three hours before I can use it again." Max replied.

"Old fashion way it is then. I'd assume they are keeping the kid in the mangers office, it will have good lines of sight, be easy to defend." He produced the map. "I'm going to circle round on foot, go in through the loading bay. Take out the guard there and then find the kid and bring him out the same way. I want you to bring the car round 15 minutes after I set off, we'll go straight back for the Fed Com Compound, failing that head for the spaceport."

"You're going to go in alone?"

"6 on 1, good odds for a Logandaler." Gibson replied like that should explain everything.

Max didn't look convinced but nodded anway. "15 minutes then. Good luck Sam."

"See you on the other side Max."

As Max went to retrieve the car, Gibson set off on a long loop round behind the mill. The streets were deserted at this hour, the industrial complex eerily quiet as Gibson moved swiftly from shadow to shadow. He wasn't surprised to find that the apparently abandoned mill had a brand new padlock on its gate. Rear slinging his carbine, he took a few steps back and then with a running start jumped up and pulled himself up so he could see over the brick wall. A lone sentry patrolled the loading bay, his rifle slung as he kicked a stone in front of him. Gibson waited until the sentry's back was turned then heaved himself over the wall and dropped back on the other side. The sentry turned at the sound, but unable to see anything in the twilight he turned and continued his absent minded patrol. Leaving his satchel behind, Gibson checked his watch and crept up behind the sentry, reading his carbine. He waited until the sentry was about to turn about before rising up, carbine held up ready to fire. The sentry turned to find himself face to face with the business end of a Mars Laser Rifle, his eye widened in surprise and he nearly dropped his rifle in his haste to throw his hands up. Gibson put a finger to his lips and signalled that the sentry should lie down. Quickly he stripped the sentry of his weapons and tied and gagged him before retrieving his satchel.

Gibson tested the rear door to ensure it was unlocked before pausing for a deep breath. He checked his watch, 3 minutes left. Carefully he pushed the door open and moved into the abandoned mill. Moving swiftly between the massive machinery he quickly located the elevated manager's office, a single light illumined the room which could only be approached by one stairway. Two shadows moved backwards and forwards within. Another three Black Warriors were grouped around a burning oil drum in the centre of the factory floor, trying to stay warm. Moving up to the foot of the stairs Gibson opened his satchel and took out a pair of grenades. The first, a flash bag went through the broken window of the manager's office, the second a frag grenade went looping towards the oil drum. Shouts of surprise filled the mill followed shortly by a pair of explosions. Gibson was already pounding up the stairs and burst into the room before the defenders could recover. The first died before he'd even realised he was under attack, the second managed to raise his weapon, but half blinded by the flashbang he didn't have a chance to fire before Gibson's second shot took him in the chest. Setting off a smoke grenade, Gibson quickly moved to the side of the third figure in the room and cut the bonds binding him to a steel chair.

"Quickly Sir, we've got to go."

Temporarily blinded and deafened by the explosions, William was barely able to comprehend what was going on so Gibson grabbed him by the arm and pushed him towards the stairs. With smoke covering their descent, Gibson sent another frag grenade towards the fire before paused for a moment, focusing on the front door. Unsure of what was happened, the front door guard stepped right into his sights, looking left and right as she tried to make sense of the chaos in front of her. She didn't get a chance as two shots in quick succession from Gibson's carbine dropped her.

"This way Sir." Gibson took William by the arm once more as he made for the open rear door. Disorientated and shocked the surviving guards started to open fire, but it was sporadic as they opened fire at random, hoping to hit their illusive enemy. Running through the rear door and into the yard, Gibson led William towards the rear gate. It swung open as Max, having picked the lock, pushed it open. He dropped to a knee, Imperator Rifle held ready as he covered the rear of the mill. Gibson bundled William into the rear seat of the car before moving to cover Max.

"Get in." Max shouted as he jumped in the driver's seat.

Gibson threw himself into the car. "Go, go, go."

The car leapt forwards as Max floored the accelerator.

"Who are you?" William asked as he started to regain his senses.

"Sir, I'm Captain Gibson, one of your father's men, this is Captain Rivers of the FWLM, we've here to rescue you."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"I think we have a tail." Gibson stated as he looked out the window.

"Nothing behind us." Max replied, checking his mirrors. The roads had been clear, all the locals seemed to prefer staying off the street at this hour.

"Above us, that helicopter is tracking us." Gibson replied with concern in his voice. Well above them a civilian helicopter slowly flew circles round their vehicle, trying to be inconspicuous.

"10 minutes to safety, let it." Max started to reply as he turned a corner. "Ahh crap road block ahead."

300 yards ahead the Black Warriors had made no effort to disguise who they were, the centre piece of their road blocking being a tracked APC.

"Back up, back up." Gibson shouted as warning shots were fired at them. Max threw the car into a J turn, flooring the accelerator as they sped back the way they had come.

"Spaceport then." Gibson stated. "If we can get to one of our dropships we're in the clear."

"Why?" William asked.

"Because where there are dropships you'll find Marines!" Gibson replied with a wild grin.

The car careered down the street as Max pushed his driving skills to the limit, dodging road blocks and trying to stay one step ahead of the encircling forces of the Black Warriors. Each extra turn added distance between the small party and safety as the net grew tighter as more and more routes were cut off.

"This is it, last chance." Gibson commented grimly as they turned a sharp right hand bend. Max slammed the breaks on as their headlights revealed another road block and a Wyvern Battlemech standing over watch. "Oh that's just cheating." Gibson swore as Max backed up, ignoring the warning laser shots melting the tarmac around the car.

"Any ideas?"

"Just one." Gibson replied. "In there now!" he pointed at the gateway to a warehouse's yard. The car shot across the road, bouncing up the curb and smashing through the gates.

"This is a dead end!" Max shouted as he got out of the vehicle.

"Not for both of us, take the kid through the warehouse, stay in cover, get him to the spaceport." Gibson replied as he ran round the car. He pulled a box out from under the drivers seat and passed the contents to Max.

"Flare gun, Red means SOS, White means stop shooting at me. Fire it once you're at the boundary fence and help will find you."

"What are you going to do?"

"Something stupid." Gibson replied as he got in the driver's seat and drove the car back out onto the street, right in front of the pursuing Black Warriors.

"Crazy fool." Max growled as he grabbed William and propelled him into the warehouse. "This way Sir."

Gibson drove like a madman, erratically swerving from side to side as he did everything in his power to draw attention. If he looked desperate, well he was, the only reason he was still alive was the apparent reluctance of the Black Warriors to risk killing their hostage. But the noose was tightening as he found road after road blocked and with a number of local 4x4's chasing after him his time was running short. Swearing he drove his car through an open gateway into a courtyard. Popping his last smoke grenade, he bailed out of the car and ran towards the door of a large factory unit. Two quick laser blasts took out the doors hinges and he burst through just as the first of the 4x4s pulled into the courtyard behind him.

The factory was open plan, single story with brick walls and a tin roof. The factory floor was filled with metal working machines of various kinds and it was behind one of these that Gibson took cover, taking aim at the doorway. He didn't wait on any ceremony, the moment the Black Warriors showed themselves he opened fire. The first didn't make it through the doorway, the second hesitated and paid for his mistake as Gibson's second shot hit him in the arm. But the third didn't hesitate and pushed his wounded comrades and into the cover of the machine space. More Black Warriors flooded through behind, as suppressive fire forced Gibson to duck back into cover. It turned into a deadly game of cat and mouse inside the gloom and shadow filled factory floor. Gibson darted between cover, firing a few shots and then relocating. At first he held the advantage, his enemy had to be aware of where their friends were as they haphazardly advanced, while he merely had to fire at anything that moved. But, despite mounting casualties they kept pushing forward, forcing Gibson back into a corner. Finally, trapped behind a lathe, with nowhere left to move to Gibson settled into a firing position and resolved to sell his life as dearly as he could. The grating sound of metal being torn apart caused him to look up. The Wyvern had torn aside a great chunk of the roof and now loomed through the gap, its flood lights illuminating Gibson as he stood up, too surprised to react. The Wyvern's lasers locked onto his position and Gibson heard the tell-tale sound of their capacitors charging up, he closed his eyes and wait to die.

Moments later he heard the sound of the laser's discharge and was amazed to still be alive, he opened his eyes to see the Wyvern stumble backwards, armour plate melted on its left side. Another volley of laser fire smashed into it and the pilot decided he'd had enough, activating his jump jets and disappearing over the buildings into the next street. Another mech, stepped into gap and Gibson's heart soared to see it was a Thunderbolt in the purple colours of House Marik.

"This way Sir." A corporal wearing the combat uniform of the old Lyran Commonwealth Marine Service stepped up behind Gibson, the rest of his squad fanning out and laying down suppressive fire against those Black Warriors who hadn't started running when their Battlemech did. "We'll get you back to the compound."

"No." Gibson responded. "Get me back to the spaceport! He's going to need some help."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Max lent his Thunderbolt round the street corner and opened fire at the Centurion at the far end of the street, scoring hits with the large laser but the LRMs scattered over the building behind it. He hoped this area was as deserted as it looked, even with just three mechs engaged they were racking up the collateral damage. The Centurion returned fire as Max unsuccessfully tried to drag his mech back into cover, autocannon shells and LRMs impacted the Thunderbolt ripping chunks out of his armour.

'Time not to be here.' He said to himself. With Gibson extracted and William safely aboard the Fed Com dropship the 'mission' was complete and there was nothing more to be gained by continuing to fight. Besides, while he was confident he could defeat the two mechs in front of him, intelligence said there was a lance on this world. The Wasp wasn't a great concern, but the Hunchback was, especially in the close confines of a city fight.

Slowly backing up, Max tried to guess where his enemies were going so he could slip through the gaps. Fighting like this was claustrophobic as he tried to keep moving. Turning a corner, he came face to face with the Wyvern again, they exchanged fire, the Wyvern taking the worst of it before, much to Max's frustration, it again it jumped clear. He picked a different route, trying to throw his pursers off his trail. 600 meters to the Space Port's boundary fence now, nearly there. His mech's warning siren sounded a lock on warning as two SRMs impacted his rear armour. He turned in time to see the Wasp jump away out of sight.

"Oh for a set of jump jets right now." Max growled as he randomly took another turn and swore as he found himself face to face with the Hunchback, its black, yellow and white tiger stripe paintjob only slightly less intimidating that the massive autocannon on its right shoulder. Max's Thunderbolt rocked backwards as the Hunchback's first volley ripped out great chunks of armour from his chest plate. Desperately Max returned fire as he backpedalled, lasers and SRMs scored his enemy armour in vain as the Hunchback slowly advanced, its next shot tearing up the armour on Max's right leg, causing armour breach warnings to fill his heads up display.

"Oh to hell with this."

Max bulldozed his way through the warehouse to his right, smashing aside brickwork and girders as he strove to put something solid between his badly damaged mech and the advancing Hunchback. He hoped the warehouse was as deserted as it looked, but he had little time to dwell on it as his mech's passage sent packing crates flying through the air. Lowing his mech's shoulder he drove his way through the far wall and into the street beyond. 'Got to move, got to move.' He thought frantically as he turned towards the spaceport, only to find his way blocked by another mech. The Battlemaster, sinister in its all black livery raised its PPC as the Hunchback burst through the warehouse behind the Thunderbolt. Max's eye widened in surprise as he desperately swung his weapons up to defend himself. The Battlemaster fired, man-made lightning leapt from the barrel of its PPC, past the Thunderbolt, striking the Hunchback in the chest. Astonished to the point of inaction, Max watched as the Battlemaster broke into a run. Releasing its PPC to free up its battle fists, it charged passed Max and straight into the Hunchback. The Hunchback's pilot reacted quickly, backing up, she fired into the charging Battlemaster as it fired at her, missiles, lasers and autocannon shells criss-crossed the rapidly shrinking divide between the mechs, both tearing great holes in each other's armour. Pushing through the fire, the Battlemaster swung its great fists, pummelling the Hunchback's upper body, seeking its head and a quick end to the duel. The Hunchback's pilot moved well, dodging back and landing quick kicks to try and knock the heavier mech off its feet. In the end mass won out, the Battlemaster forced the Hunchback back against the side of a building and punched out, its battle fist smashing through the already weakened head armour to crush the cockpit behind. The Battlemaster turned to face the Thunderbolt, the smashed armour plating only adding to its intimidating presence.

"Max you alright?" Gibson's voice was distorted by his mech's loudhailer but Max, understood it. "I don't have your radio frequencies."

"Mostly, bit banged up. Let's get out of here while they're on the back foot." Max replied using his own loudhailer.

Gibson considered it. Max was out of the fight, his mech had numerous armour breaches, several over ammo storage bins, he would need to withdraw. His own mech had also taken more than a few hits, you didn't get into brawls with Hunchbacks and come out without a few bruises, but nowhere was breached and the weaken spot over his right torso wasn't a concern, no ammo there.

"No I've still got a score to settle. Get back to the dropships, I'll take it from here."

"You've got to be kidding me!" Max shouted, but the Battlemaster was already in motion. Collecting its discarded PPC it set off, hunting down the rest of the Black Warrior's lance.

He found the Wasp first. Jumping on buildings, trying to get a visual on what was happening, the pilot lingered a little too long in Gibson's sights. A PPC blast, tore into its right arm, crippling numerous actuators. Not a killing shot, but enough to convince the pilot to make himself scarce as the Wasp pilot jumped away and into the cover of the streets. Gibson found the Centurion next, it had been running to the assistance of the Hunchback when it turned a corner and ran straight into Gibson's Battlemaster. Panic fire scattered autocannon shells across the surrounding warehouses and factories as the Battlemaster fired point blank laser and SRM salvos into the Centurion's armour. The Centurion tried to get clear, tried to fight back, but a SRM found a hole in its armour, biting deep it set off a catastrophic explosion in the mech's LRM ammo. The pilot ejected as his mech disintegrated around him.

His comms smashed in the fight with Max, the Wyvern pilot wasn't aware of the fate of his lance mates. It didn't take him long to realise that things had gone badly wrong when the black liveried Battlemaster turn the corner and raised its PPC towards him. Activating his jump jets he though himself safe as he put two streets between him and his attacker. His jaw fell open as the Battlemaster followed him, powerful jets launching its 85ton bulk through the air. 'Battlemaster's don't jump' wasn't a useful thought as Gibson's weapons locked on. The next thought was more useful. The Wyvern threw its arms up in the air.

"I surrender."

His blood up, Gibson still nearly pulled the trigger but restrained himself. There were limits and there were rules, there had to be or it was just mindless slaughter.

"Power down your mech." He replied, keeping his PPC trained on the Wyvern's head. "Tell me what I need to know and you can keep your mech."

"Sure thing boss." The Wyvern's pilot replied jittery. "What do you want to know?"

"Let start with who you are, and why you kidnapped the Ambassador's son."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Captain Daventry nervously fingered the open hatch of his Scorpion tank. He, along with his lance and two platoons of infantry had been ordered to surround the Fed Com compound and arrest one Captain Samuel Gibson on charges of 'breach of the peace.' It has seemed simple enough at first, except the Fed Com Ambassador had refused to say where the Captain was, had refused to allow Daventry's troops to search the compound and generally refused to cooperate in the slightest. Then reports started to come in of a firefight in an abandoned steel mill, followed by tales of a mech duel in the streets of the industrial district. Rumours were rife, but now the radio had gone strangely quiet, nobody was answering his requests for information, instructions or reinforcements. He suspected someone had screwed up royally and that his little command was now sitting in a very dangerous spot.

"Boss, you'd better come see this." The report came from the tank pair guarding the rear approach to the compound.

"On my way." Daventry responded as he directed his driver to head towards their position. He soon wished he hadn't. Daventry had been on enough raids to have seen Battlemechs in action and he was no longer bothered by them in the same way that they unsettled many of the younger warriors in his command. That said, if he was going to be bothered by a mech, the Battlemaster approaching his position would be the one to do it. It presented a hellish vision, black armour rent and torn, it swaggered as much as walked down the street, the decapitated head of a Centurion grasped in its left hand.

"Nobody fire, nobody fire!" He shouted down the radio as he picked up his loudhailer and took a deep breath before speaking with confidence he hardly felt.

"Captain Samuel Gibson, by order of the Governor of Baltazar, you are to power down your mech and submit yourself to arrest."

The Battlemaster stopped and turned to face Daventry's Scorpion. For a moment it stopped as if considering its options before the silence was broken by its own loudhailer, Gibson's voice coming through loud and clear.

"Given that your military has recently kidnaped the Ambassador's son and tried to kill me." The Battlemaster stepped forwards and threw the Centurion's head at Daventry's Scorpion. The head bounced once and came to a rest just in front of the tank. "I'm going to have to go with, make me."

Inside his mech, Gibson weighed up his options. He had to admit the situation had gotten a touch out of hand, ideally he needed to calm the situation down and start talking. After all, the Wyvern pilot had revealed that the kidnaping was the work of Cirion's faction, hoping to use their hostage as leverage against the Governor. Presumably therefore he could 'trust' the Governor's men. The problem was he didn't trust any of the Black Warriors and he was currently sitting inside the greatest remaining concentration of military power on the planet, with no particularly good reason to relinquish that position.

Outside, Daventry also weighed up his options. Quite frankly his orders were now impossible and attempting to arrest Gibson was out of the question. That Battlemaster could easily destroy his lance of Scorpions and likely wipe out their sister lance that was conspicuous in their absence. Once they were gone there was no significant force left to defend either the city of the planet. He could call for the support of his own sides Battlemechs, but it looked like they had already been defeated if not destroyed. Ideally he would like fresh instructions but no one at headquarters were responding to his requests, leaving him in the uncomfortable positions of having to make his own decisions and justify them later.

"Captain Gibson, I am Captain Daventry of the Black Warriors, if you have evidence of your accusations against our forces we would be willing to discuss them, if you power down your mech and come with us."

"Give me one good reason to trust you Captain."

Daventry paused, to be fair he didn't have a particularly good one, he had a nasty suspicion that the foreign mechwarrior was telling the truth and a faction of the Black Warriors was behind the kidnaping. The splintering between groups loyal to the President McIntyre and those loyal to Michael Cirion had become more and more pronounced of late and if he was telling the truth he would be very foolish to trust his safety to Daventry and his men. His radio squawked.

"Err Boss, got another Battlemech at the front gate. FWLM Thunderbolt."

The purple Thunderbolt picked its way carefully through the perimeter of Black Warriors, following the bemused infantry's directions to their captain. "Captain Daventry, I am Captain Max Rivers of the FWLM, may I suggest a solution?" Despite being fresh from the fight Max managed to sound calm and reasonable, a notable contrast to Gibson's aggression. "I will stand here as a guarantee of Captain Gibson's good conduct while we await the arrival of your governor. He has agreed to an emergency meeting with the Federated Commonwealth and Free World League Ambassadors to resolve this unfortunate situation."

Daventry's mind raced. The governor was going to be here, in person, with a potentially hostile Battlemaster running loose. Was he just supposed to allow that, how was he supposed to stop it?

"It has been suggested that the three of us take joint responsibility for the meetings security, to prevent any further embarrassing incidents." Max continued.

"Yes, yes, that would be satisfactory." Daventry latched onto the idea with the desperation of a drowning man. "My men will provide an outer cordon, if you both provide the inner." He added, trying to retain the illusion of being in charge of the situation.

"I agree." Gibson replied simply and switched off the loudhailer. He pinged Max with a laser line. "Your work I take it?"

"Thought I'd take advantage of the chaos you caused. I gather the Governor wants you and your mech as far away from here as possible as quickly as possible and is willing to offer some serious concessions to make that happen." Max replied over the same link.

Gibson smiled to himself "Gunboat diplomacy at its finest."

Max laughed. "That's one way to look it."


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue

"So let me get this straight." Captain Neil Evans of the second company cut in. "The pair of you, alone, accidentally declared war on a planet and won?"

"That's my husband." Dr Cara Gibson replied, hugging her husband's arm and kissing him on the check, much to his embarrassment.

"Your both insane." Neil concluded.

"We're following them, what does that make use Neil." Lieutenant Melissa Rivers replied with a smile.

"Idiots, but I knew that when I agreed to follow a Gibson into battle." Neil replied to the groups general amusement.

"Anyway." Gibson continued, expressing some annoyance at the interruption. "Command counted that as a victory so afterwards I ended up employed as a sort of trouble shooter on the Steiner-Marik border."

"Emphasis on the shooting part right?" Kyle added.

"Naturally." Gibson replied. "Which is how I met you of course. Regardless with those sort of missions it was useful to maintain a contact on the Marik side of the border."

"Between the pair of us we did a lot of good work towards keeping the border quiet and fairy peaceful." Max expanded on Gibson's point. "When I needed to deal with a problem on the Lyran side of the border, first person I contacted was Sam to de-conflict with anything the Fed Com was running and vis versa, I would ensure than anything Sam was up to wouldn't run afoul of FWLM patrols. We ended up heading a number of very hush hush joint ops to neutralise destabilizing influences and well, spend that much time working with someone you either end up as mates or mortal enemies."

"So when I needed an intelligence officer for this mission, I knew from the off who I wanted for the role."

"And for my own part it looked like the Steiner-Marik border is going to be somewhat boring for the time being, so I talked my boss into letting me take a leave of absence with a mercenary group. I get to go do some good and he gets some up to date info on the invaders." Max dusted off the last of his drink. "Anyway I believe it's my round, who's in?"

A series of 'Ayes!' went round the table as the night's festivities continued.


End file.
